


Valentine's Dinner with the Gamekeeper

by SippingPlotting



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-05
Updated: 2017-06-05
Packaged: 2018-11-09 10:18:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11102478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SippingPlotting/pseuds/SippingPlotting
Summary: Autumn Gypsy wanted to know about Valentine's between two characters in a different work.Goes with "No Right to be Unhappy"





	Valentine's Dinner with the Gamekeeper

It was odd to be in a cottage so far away from anyone else.  
True, Thomas came here for cards with Andy and knew all of the downstairs in detail. He could go into the small kitchen and find glasses or drink, light the small stove for tea.  
He'd become comfortable here.  
But now he realized how isolated the place was, out here in the woods on a path you only took to get to that exact spot. 

No one would hear them tonight.  
The licentious part of his brain revelled in that, even as the thought of such abandon frightened him a bit.  
It had been so long. 

 

He'd been true to Jimmy, heart and body, even though he knew such a thing was probably hopeless. (Why did he insist on qualifying it, even now? Some part of him still felt that Jimmy had an interest, even though every word he said stated otherwise.)  
Almost angrily, Barrow reined in such thoughts of the other man. This night was about Joe, him and Joe. No ghost should share the bed.

 

Thomas had worn a crisp white shirt and his best slacks. (This after much deliberation.)  
He'd had on a jacket, which made Miller chuckle and was swiftly shucked onto a peg. ("Bit formal tonight, aren't we?")  
Thomas was freshly shaved, smelling of citrus cologne and peppermint lozenges. His hair pomaded slickly back in a style he wasn't aware didn't suit him as well as his own natural self. ("We'll muss you up, soon enough," thought Joe.)

 

Meanwhile Miller tried his best to look the same as always.  
True, he'd spent hours scrubbing the corners upstairs, knowing that Thomas was a bit compulsive in his cleanliness.  
And he'd picked clothes that were soft to the touch and easily off.  
But he didn't want to alarm Barrow by seeming to try too much to impress.

Thomas Barrow was skittery enough, his face a blank mask when he entered, which told Joe much about his nerves.  
The more comfortable Thomas was, the more he let his expressions show.  
Frankly, Joe was concerned he might need a few drinks between them before either could relax enough to get beyond the meal. 

 

But Thomas surprised him, coming up from his seat in a surge as Joe moved to put down the plates.  
Suddenly all hands and mouth and tongue, touching and licking, nipping and moaning slightly.  
"Hmmm...." thought Joe, "no objection from me." The dinner was forgotten as they made their way up, neither navigating the stairs all too well. 

At the top, Barrow paused--suddenly aware of the enormity of the moment.  
"It's all right," Joe breathed into his ear. "I've got you."

 

There was a buzzing in Thomas's ears, and his mouth felt swollen with the plundering.  
His arms dropped easily round Joe's waist, sliding then lower and around.  
And a great swelling need filled him.

A shiver ran through them both.  
"Yes," Thomas said. Just that. And Joe pulled them both through the door.

 

Thomas tried to undress him, tried to fall to his knees immediately. ("You were made to serve," Philip had once told him in delight.)  
But Miller was having none of it. The gamekeeper wanted to see Thomas, all of him, took his time removing shirt and pants until they both were unclad.  
He'd thought to build a fire earlier, and the room was as warm as could be made, but still they went under the covers to explore.

Thomas, for all his beauty, seemed absolutely embarrassed by his body.  
He kept trying to duck Joe's observations and keep the man distracted with his mouth--a quite talented mouth, to be sure.  
"God," Joe moaned as he wrestled him back. "Are you trying to murder me instead of fuck?"

 

Thomas stopped, gasping slightly, then started to laugh out loud. ("That's it, love. Be loud for me," thought Miller.)  
Joe ran his fingers through the other's hair. "You must stop this nonsense," he commented lightly ruffling it. Then let his touch roam Thomas's face and neck.  
"And this certainly must go," Joe said as he got to the hand with the glove.

"It'll put you off," murmured Thomas, still intent on pleasing.  
"I intend to kiss every inch of you, scars and all, Thomas Barrow. I don't get put off by such things," chuckled Joe.  
And he proceeded to do just that.


End file.
